Change. It’s been a long historical movement, through all my learning, experience and book work – mind you, all my reading has yet to find any answers. Life itself is subject to an alteration, or shall I say, a pitiful exchange of tit for tat?
No, change is definitely here and one had better look out if one doesn’t take any notice.
Take Swansea Singleton Park. The boating lake, yes I know it isn’t the Park as such but bear with me. I used to have a great fun as a child, playing on the swishy boats going to nowhere. They had oars and wood then. Leaving a friend on the island provided a laugh or two, never could find out whatever happened to him. Some Swansea shark must have eaten him for breakfast or something. Anyway, remember the Golden Mile, in Mumbles? All the pubs have turned into eating houses now, no more getting inebriated in a mile shot of drunken deliverance.
Those were the days.
Was it different or was it a figment of my imagination? Different, I’d say. Forty five years ago, times were gentler or more placid. The internet hadn’t come along and everybody talked. Young ‘uns found things to do and didn’t waste their time clicking nonsense to each other.
The television has become a trying exercise in patience (I’m not very good at it, patience that is), and for many of us it is a hopeless swapping of ideals, whatever ‘ideal’ you may have.
All in all ‘change’- whatever that means – is a good thing, a timeless event worthy of thought.
Whatever the future turns out to be, depending on your age. I’m fortunate I can think back to those days……or am I?
I must tell you, how extraordinary I find this plastic surgery endeavour by some in our society. ‘Extraordinary’, this is not a word I use lightly but given the extent to which some will go, I do find it mind-boggling. Outrageous lips, eyebrows that disappear, full to beyond belief breasts and bodies that have been trimmed down to almost nothing. Like I say, extraordinary.
What intrigues me more than anything else, is that why are people so malcontent with the body they born with, apart from a serious medical condition that is? Surely, an au natural skin is better than a scarred body complex and a personal anxiety?
I’ll grow old gracefully, and there is something to say for it – at least I won’t look like a disgruntled prune, which is looking for re-ripening. Mind you, I can see something in that!
I was in this bar the other day. You know, all the smokers outside, the beer drinkers (not many of those) and food being pumped at the general public for all the landlord was worth. I remembered a time when I used to do bar work, a time without computerised till work and calculation was done in the head – God help you on a £20 order!
I looked around me and remembered my bar work, not as it is today. Who will pay £3 a pint when you can get similar for half the price at a local Tesco’s?
Bars are shutting, drinking holes are becoming extinct and I wonder why? Change again, in all its multifarious forms.
At a good age now, I can’t help feeling that I’ve seen a bygone era pass me by. Regrets? I have a few.